


quiet_memory.txt

by PajamaSecrets



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Intimacy, Kissing, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PajamaSecrets/pseuds/PajamaSecrets
Summary: “Can I kiss you?” Elliot had asked her, nervous and unsure. Shayla immediately kissed him without a word in response: a pleasant pressing of lips, bold and sure.“Next time, don’t ask,” Shayla told him when she pulled away. “It’s lame.”So next time, Elliot didn’t ask.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Shayla Nico
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	quiet_memory.txt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [restless_heart_syndrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless_heart_syndrome/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!!! :)

“Can I kiss you?” Elliot had asked her, nervous and unsure. Shayla immediately kissed him without a word in response: a pleasant pressing of lips, bold and sure. 

“Next time, don’t ask,” Shayla told him when she pulled away. “It’s lame.”

So next time, Elliot didn’t ask—not out loud, anyway. He asked her with the careful, trembling touch of his hand on top of hers. He asked her with the soft exhale of shaky breath that was so achingly close to the skin of her cheek. He asked with the flicker of his eyes mapping her expression, wandering until they settled on the soft line of her mouth. The mouth that curved up into a knowing smile when she turned to see Elliot studying her face so closely.

Elliot tried to swallow down the buzzing ball of his anxiety, feeling it get trapped in his throat. _It’s too late to back out now_. _There's n_ _o exit command for this._

With the _thud-_ _t_ _hud,_ _thud-_ _thud_ of his hummingbird-fast pulse drumming an insistent beat inside his ears, Elliot leaned in and kissed her, warm, firm, wanting.

_Oh. She closed her eyes. Should I close my eyes? I probably should. Where do I put my hands?_

Shayla pulled away from Elliot and brought her hands up to cup his face. Her thumb traced idle circles against his cheek.

_Fuck. I fucked up. I did something wrong, didn't I?_ _Does she want me to—_

“God, you’re thinking too hard,” Shayla said with a little huff of a laugh, her fingertips moving up to smooth an errant lock of Elliot’s hair away from his forehead. Elliot leaned into it, breathing deep.

"I'm sorry," Elliot mumbled. "I just... I don't want to mess this up."

Shayla looked at him with only a hint of affectionate exasperation. “Don't worry about making it perfect, okay?” She said. “Just go with the flow. Just let it happen.”

_Okay. Just let it happen. I can do that. I think I can do that._

Elliot put his arms around Shayla and kissed her again, and this time, he let the rest of the world fade away—the cars honking and dogs barking and sirens wailing outside his shitty New York apartment, the smoke and stink of weed hanging hot and thick in the air from the joint they had lazily passed between them on his couch, the _tick tick tick_ of his noisy upstair’s neighbor’s wall clock, the hammer of his own heart thumping insistently against the wall of his chest, the constant ominous clawing from the back of his brain telling him that he's forgotten something terribly important. In this moment, there was only her. Just Shayla. Shayla, who had never expected Elliot to be something he wasn’t. Never asked him to be normal. She wasn’t phased by his self-loathing, self-medicating, self-destructive bullshit. She was here with him despite it all. She _wanted_ to be here with him despite it all.

And so he kissed her, he kissed her, he _kissed_ her, his tongue in her mouth and his heart in her hands.

And as he kissed her, he found himself sinking into her, sinking them both into the worn cushions of his creaky couch, his hands wandering the expanse of her back through the thin cotton of her shirt, the warmth of her body under his fingertips and the taste of her lips on his tongue lighting frantic sparks of desire in his belly. He tangled his fingers in her hair, perfectly contended with the possibility of kissing her forever.

Then Shayla abruptly and unceremoniously took his hand and placed it on her breast.

Stunned, Elliot broke their kiss, his breathing ragged and rough. He stared down at his hand like it didn't belong to him.

“Um,” he said.

“Elliot? You okay?” Shayla asked.

“Yeah, it’s just...” Elliot quietly looked down again, quietly contemplating before giving a little squeeze.

Shayla arched her back into the touch, sighing, the sound like a cool, calm ripple of water.

_Just let it happen_ , she had told him. _Just let it happen._

Elliot kissed her neck, then, wet, open-mouthed kisses against her pulse that made her tremble, her hands gripping his faded black t-shirt for purchase. He stroked her breast with his thumb, thrilling in the little gasp it elicited from her, feeling her nipple grow hard and pert under his thumb. He wanted to hear that sound again. He wanted to bottle up that sound and keep it inside of him, snug behind his ribcage.

Hesitantly, his hand wandered further down, her hips hitching up, his fingertips dancing across her inner thigh.

“Is this okay?” Elliot asked. He hoped that question was okay to speak aloud. But they hadn't exactly done _this_ last time.

“Yeah,” Shayla replied, her breath hot against his ear. “ _Fuck_ yeah.”

“Yeah,” Elliot repeated, kissing her, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of her leggings and giving a sharp tug. She lifted her hips for him and he dragged them down and off, the fabric falling to the floor, forgotten.

Shayla pulled at the hem of Elliot’s t-shirt. He helped her pull it up over his head and then tossed it aside, landing somewhere near Shayla’s pants.

The shirt had mussed up Elliot’s hair on its way off; Shayla smiled and ran her fingers through it.

“You’re cute,” she said, her voice breathy and quiet and sincere.

Elliot felt his face flush. He turned from Shayla’s gaze, overwhelmed.

_Just let it happen._

“Elliot, we don’t have to do anything,” Shayla said. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Elliot said, his heartbeat skittering, “I—I want to. I really want to.”

With a deep breath, Elliot stood up from the couch, extending a hand to Shayla.

She took his hand in hers, fingers intertwined, and followed him to his bed. The rest of their clothes fell off one by one, piece by piece, until Shayla was bare before him, and he before her.

He looked into her eyes, then, something he didn’t allow himself to do often—if at all—it was something dangerous, forbidden. He was struck by their tenderness.

_You’re beautiful_ , he wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn't come out. So he kissed her instead, hoping the intention would get across somehow.

His hands stroked reverently through her hair, along her neck, her shoulders. He brought her down gently to his bed, laying her head on his pillow, looking at her with a reverence reserved for deities he didn't believe in.

And as he tangled himself in her, and she in him, their breath and moans and life intermingling, he wondered if any drug felt as good as this.

_Please don’t let me forget this moment,_ Elliot begged of his broken brain. _Just let me have this one thing. Let me have this moment. Please._

_Don’t let me forget her._


End file.
